


Hijacked

by JollyCat



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyCat/pseuds/JollyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first Sean Renard felt only relief - the mystery of his phantom bleeding was solved, he could move on. But moving on isn't as easy as he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His dreams are filled with murder. Blood and sharp steel and the screams of those who didn't deserve their death. Some days when his eyes open all he wants to do is turn over and fall into a dreamless sleep without worrying if he ever wakes up. Other days he surges from sleep with the face of a zauberbiest, bellowing his rage. Each day he pulls on the face of a police captain, the camouflage of suit and tie, pretends to be human, pretends to care. He doesn't, he will not care any more. Let the humans kill each other, let the Wesen run riot.

He used to have a life - a good one, by his own measure. He had enough money to have expensive tastes, enough power - in both of his worlds - to satisfy him. He had no need for friends but if he wanted the release of sex there was always someone, male or female, human or Wesen, to please him. The last few years were complicated but, despite everything that happened, he always felt he could get back to that life. Not now. Now he just survives. And he knows who he blames.

At first he felt only relief - the mystery of his phantom bleeding was solved, Kenneth Bowes-Lyon a useful scapegoat. He didn't remember any of it, the case was closed, he could move on. And it's not as though he hasn't killed before, when he felt it was necessary. But he still had the files on the murders and he read them, almost out of curiosity. Then he read them again. And again. And again. And again. Now he knows every word, every wound. He knows exactly how his hands committed each murder. And what about before? Were there more? What else did he do? He searches case files, police bulletins, tries to build a timeline of his missing memory. And the anger grows at what happened to him and the more it grows the more he holds it inside.

He doesn't - can't, won't - talk to anyone about it. Rosalee Calvert tries but he sends her away with increasingly bitter words. They are all too busy with Nick anyway, Nick, lost in his own grief, his own anger but surrounded by people eager to help him through.

Sometimes his anger fades for a moment. He sees Nick, the face thinner than it used to be, eyes tired, feels that odd urge to protect. But then the anger comes back.

It was the entity called Jack who possessed him, his mother who worked the cure that let Jack in. It was Weston Steward who shot him. But he knows who he blames, blames for all of this - he blames Nicholas Burkhardt. Because if he hadn't cared about Nick none of it would have happened.

*****

Nick follows Hank to Renard's office, hanging back slightly. Hank knocks on the door frame, holds up the buff folder he's carrying,  
"A word, Captain?"  
Renard moves the current pile of paperwork away from him slightly, gestures to the chairs opposite.

They take seats. Hank puts the folder he's carrying on the desk and pushes it across towards Renard.

"This is the autopsy on Caitlin Schneider, 33 year old lawyer. Last Friday she left work about 7, didn't turn up Monday. They reported her missing and her body was found dumped Tuesday evening. She died from a really bad beating. Tape adhesive in her hair and bruises on wrists and ankles suggest she was restrained, held somewhere for a couple of days. We don't have a primary scene yet."  
"So why are you bringing this to me?"  
"Because Caitlin worked for Berman, Rautbort and Associates and from all we know about that firm and all we've been told about her we wondered if she was a hexenbiest. There's too much damage to tell from the body, the tongue so ... we thought we'd ask if you recognised her."

Berman, Rautbort and Associates is the firm Adalind worked for. Renard opens the folder, looks at the photograph of Caitlin before her death.  
"She was. Does it matter?"  
Hank shrugs,  
"Maybe, maybe not. But if she was a hexenbiest it would make it that much harder to take her by surprise and overpower her than if she was just a regular five foot two human."  
"If you can find the primary see what that gives you." He pushes the folder back across the desk, pulls his paperwork back towards him. Realises they are still sitting there,  
"Was there anything else?"  
Hank shakes his head, they stand and leave.

"Thought we might have got more from the Captain there."  
Nick glances across at Hank, who is staring back at Renard's office thoughtfully. He's been playing through the last few minutes in his mind. The Captain hadn't spoken to him, hadn't looked at him once through that entire meeting. He never does now if he can possibly avoid it, if it's necessary he is professionally distant but that's all. At first Nick thought it was some kind of punishment for getting himself suspended, for nearly throwing away his life as a detective, for nearly becoming the kind of Grimm that all Wesen fear. But it's gone on too long and it's getting more and more noticeable. Nick feels like he has emerged from his own grief to find something important has disappeared while he wasn't looking.

In his office Renard thinks back to Sunday. What did he do? Are there any hours he can't account for? He does this for most murders now.

 

*****

The two klaustreichs have been in the bar all evening, drinking beer and shots, watching the game on TV. The younger of the two gets into an argument, pushing and shoving and woging (although not so the humans could see, he isn't that drunk), gets them thrown out. They are standing outside the bar, wondering where to try and get in next, when each feels a sudden sharp pain and darkness descends. Their badly beaten bodies are found three days later.

Caitlin Schneider and two low-brow alley cats - on the face of it they don't have much in common. But all three disappeared, were murdered forty eight hours later and then their bodies were dumped and found the following day. All three have traces of being restrained for some time before their deaths. All three were also Wesen. The discovery of the similarities initiates a wider investigation, pulling in other teams as they find more links. When they look beyond Portland they find more cases.

*****

The room is crowded for the briefing. Portland doesn't need more serial murders and if that's what this is they need to find the killer or killers quickly. Nick watches Renard as he leads the briefing. He looks tired, as though he doesn't sleep well and there is something about the way he holds himself that seems different. Nick keeps his own head down. He has ideas, suggestions but he's not going to risk saying something. He and Renard should be working together on this - Hank and Wu know about the Wesen link but Renard is the man in charge. He's going to talk to him.

As the briefing ends Nick follows Renard towards his office, knocks on the door frame. Renard turns and looks at him and Nick is rather taken aback by the flat stare.  
"Captain, this case, there's obviously a Wesen link. Don't you think we should be putting our heads together on this one. I have a few ideas, I wondered if we should -"  
"You have a partner don't you?"  
"Uh, well yes, of course I -"  
"Then I suggest you put your head together with him. If you don't think Hank's a good enough partner let me know, I'll assign you to someone else."  
For a second Nick just gapes at him. Renard turns his back, goes round to his side of the big desk. There doesn't seem anything for Nick to do but go.

 

*****

 

Everyone works late but but Nick stays at the precinct until he's virtually the last one left. The main room is deserted but the lights are still on in the office, blinds drawn to conceal the occupant. Nick gives a last frustrated look at the closed door and heads out. He doesn't want to go back to his empty apartment so he drives to Monroe and Rosalee's.

"Hey, Nick. Long time, no see."  
Actually he was here last night but Monroe holds the door open, letting Nick in past him and Rosalee goes to find him a beer.

Nick tells himself he hasn't come here to talk about Renard but he's only had two mouthfuls from the bottle when he finds that he is.  
"...and he said if I didn't think Hank was a good enough partner he'd assign me to someone else. I don't know what's up with him. I mean, I know I was out of line with some of the stuff I said to him but does he think this is some kind of punishment or is he just _sulking_."

Monroe and Rosalee exchange glances. Rosalee leans forward,  
"Have you thought this isn't about you for once? At least not directly. Sean had a really difficult time himself, the bleeding and then finding out what was causing it. The fact he even told us about the bleeding shows how scared he was - he's not a man to share his weaknesses with anyone. He was invaded by someone or something else and forced to commit physical acts agains his will, helpless to do anything about it - what would you call that in a human context, Nick?"  
Nick thinks, doesn't like the word he comes up with.  
"And then, after all that, after discovering what he'd done, killed those women, killed his friend, and what you had to do to get Jack out of him, after all that we just had to let him leave, go back to that house while all hell broke loose with you. And since then you've had a baby with a woman he had a relationship with, however that may have worked, and you played happy families with her until you decided that wasn't what you wanted. So, if he's maybe not ready to be all warm and supportive to you just yet, maybe it's not that surprising."  
Rosalee stops suddenly, takes a deep breath, reaches for her wine. For the first time Nick notices the two half full wine glasses side by side on the table, that the lamps are lit, music playing. Rosalee is looking away from him, Monroe is looking back and forward between them, a worried expression on his face. Nick stands up,  
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come round, you two obviously want some time to yourselves."

At first Nick drives aimlessly - or at least that's what he'd say if there was anyone there to ask - but eventually he can't deny he's driving to Renard's house. But when he gets to the house there are no lights on. Somehow he hadn't anticipated that - surely he can't still be at the precinct at this time?

The last time he was in that house it had been during the Jack the Ripper case, Renard pulled from sleep, confused, slightly - in retrospect - scared. Then they'd gone to Henrietta's house, he remembers the man's obvious emotion. He's torn between anger at Renard for the way he's behaving and a first slight realisation that perhaps he's not the only person who's had a really tough time lately.  
Nick starts the engine and, with one last glance at the dark house, drives away.

He's looking as he drives, not really expecting to find Renard but keeping his eyes open, when he notices the black SUV, badly parked too close to an intersection. He pulls in across from it, goes and looks at the license plate, though the windows. It's definitely Renard's. He looks around, there's a bar down the side street, more an alley really. It's not what Nick would think is the Captain's kind of place but who knows.

The bar is busy, mostly men, serious drinkers. Nick pushes his way past a group, a tall blond man and sees Renard at the bar, empty glass in front of him. Nick can tell he's had too much even as he walks up to him. The bartender looks across, asks,  
"Friend of yours?"  
Nick puts his hand on Renard's shoulder and the bigger man turns and slurs,  
"No friend of mine."  
Nick can actually see his face flickering, the Zauberbiest slipping in and out of view. He lets his jacket fall back so the bartender can see his badge,  
"It's okay sir, I'll deal with this."  
He hoists Renard up, pulls him through the bar and out into the alley.

Nick is keen just to get Renard out and home but the fresh air revives him and Nick dealt with enough drunks as a patrolman to know when one is spoiling for a fight. Renard pulls away from him, swings a punch. Nick is trying not to fight back, trying to just calm the situation, but Renard is not fighting clean and even drunk he's got zauberbiest strength. Renard gets in a kick, and, given he's still wearing dress shoes and has size-whatever feet, it hurts like hell. Nick starts to fight back in earnest.

Neither of them are paying any attention to anything but each other. Even Nick doesn't realise they have an audience, doesn't notice anything until he feels a sudden sharp pain and darkness descends.


	2. Chapter 2

Sean comes back to consciousness with one moment of clarity, knows that his ankles and wrists are bound, his eyes are covered. Then he rages and fights against the bindings, woging and retracting.  
"Captain, stop it, you're just going to hurt yourself. Captain."  
Nick's voice breaks through. What the hell is going on? Is this something Nick has done to him? He stills, senses alert. He's lying on a hard floor, cold, slightly gritty. The air is also cold, there is a musty smell and the buzzing of a fluorescent light. He can hear a shuffling noise and he only works out what it is when Nick bumps into his head. It's difficult to sit up with his hands secured behind him but he manages it to get away from Nick's touch.  
"What happened?" His mouth is dry, voice hoarse.  
"Do you remember the bar? You were drunk, we were fighting, somebody took us out. I remember something sharp in my leg, I think they must have shot us with something - a dart, something like that."  
"What would they do that for?"  
"I don't know - but I have a feeling we have forty eight hours at most to find out."

Sean takes that in, resting his head back against the wall. His eyes are totally covered, there's no trace of light seeping through. He can feel that the wrappings go right round his head, the pull where tape is stuck to his hair. It feels like metal loops around his wrists and ankles, no flexibility at all. If Nick is bound the same way they really are in trouble. He asks,  
"Can you see?"  
"No - not a thing. Hands and feet cuffed too. You the same?"  
"Yes. Any idea how long we've been here?"  
"You were drunk, very drunk. You sound sober now. How long do you reckon that might be?"  
He processes alcohol quicker than a human but he'd had a lot in a very short time,  
"Perhaps six hours."  
"There you go then, forty two hours to find out what the hell is going on."

They sit in silence for a while. Sean is aware that, although not touching him, Nick is very close. Close enough that he's can tell when Nick tenses. A few seconds later he hears the footsteps himself and then the sound of a key, a chain rattling, a handle turning. Padlocked metal door, he thinks. The footsteps come into the room and he concentrates on trying to work out what he's hearing. Four people, three large men with heavy booted footsteps, one lighter - a smaller man or a woman.

"So, what do we have here? A hexenbiest I believe - a male hexenbiest, we haven't had one of those before."  
The man's voice is educated, mid-west. A hand grabs his chin.  
"Go on then, do it for me."  
He holds himself still.  
"Shy, eh? I can understand that, if you're as ugly as the other hexenbiests we've had. Make him do it."

The hand lets go of his face and he's grabbed by the arms, two men, one each side. He's pulled nearly to his feet and then pushed to his knees. The first blow - stupidly in the circumstances - takes him by surprise, doubles him over. He's more ready for the next few. He thinks what the hell does it matter anyway, they obviously already know about Wesen. He woges.  
"Fuck, what is all this half and half about, that's even worse than the others."  
The hand grabs his face again, fingers digging painfully into the Zauberbiest side of his jaw. After a few seconds the hand lets go and so do the men holding him, he's pushed back against the wall.

"So, what about you, Detective Nicholas Burkhardt, what kind of freak are you?"  
Nick was wearing his badge of course - his own was left in his car, along with any other identification.  
Nick says nothing, Sean can hear him being dragged up. For the first time the leader, the alpha, turns, addressing the fourth person still over by the door.  
"Did you see him do it?"  
"No - but he knew when the hexenbiest was morphing so he must be one too."  
Another male voice but higher, lighter, sounds young.  
"Well, let's see."  
Sean can hear the sound of blows, Nick's grunts. He finds himself speaking,  
"He's human. Just human."  
"But he knew you were morphing."  
"He knows me very well." Sean doesn't know if this is helping or not, why he's saying this. Maybe it gives them some advantage if they think Nick is an ordinary human.  
Alpha laughs, "A fucking freak lover. Well, we'll see."

One of the other men speaks for the first time,  
"He's a cop. They'll be looking for him - should we just kill them now, get out of here?"  
"No. They won't find us up here. Get the usual base samples then unfasten the freak-lover's arms, give them some food and a bucket."  
"What about the other one."  
"Leave him as he is. I don't trust hexenbiests, and there's something about him I especially don't like."  
Alpha grabs Sean's face again,  
"Actually I don't like any of you filthy freaks. I am going to find a way to identify you - and then eradicate you."

The two men take blood samples, Sean just submits, Nick fights more. They tell Sean to woge and he does without arguing. They take a painful piece of flesh from his face. The door opens again and the lighter footsteps come back into the room. There's a clank of metal, the rustle of paper. Finally they undo Nick's wrists, warn him that any attempt to uncover their eyes and his hands won't just be re-fastened they'll be cut off, and leave. The door clangs shut, is padlocked.

For a while there is just the sound of Nick's stressed breathing as the sensation comes back into his arms. There's nothing Sean can do so he just waits. After maybe five minutes he hears Nick move.  
"There's food here - sandwiches, wrapped, and bottles, water I guess. Plus the bucket so I presume we're not getting taken to the en suite bathroom."  
Sean has been on the same courses as Nick. If there is sealed food and water, eat and drink - don't compromise yourself by being dehydrated or low on energy. He can even hear the instructor: 'do everything you can to be in the best condition you can to take any chance you might get.' He doesn't see where they're going to get a chance.

He hears Nick opening a bottle and drinking, the sound of wrappings being ripped. Nick says,  
"You want some?"  
"Shall I just roll across there and eat it off the floor like a dog?"  
There's a pause.  
"I don't know what the hell is wrong with you but could we just put it to one side in the circumstances? I was going to bring the food to you."  
Sean battles with himself briefly,  
"I could do with a drink."

Sean hears Nick shuffle across to him then the bottle being opened. Nick's hand touches first his shoulder and then moves up to his face, his other hand lifts the bottle to Sean's lips. The water feels wonderful down his parched throat. When he's drunk maybe half the bottle Nick puts it down and he hears the rustle of the sandwich wrapping. Nick's hand comes back to cup his jaw again, like but so unlike Alpha did, and then a piece of sandwich is at his mouth, he takes it from Nick's fingers. The sandwich is fed to him piece by piece, Nick's fingers grazing his lips, Nick's hand against his cheek. He wants to pull away, get as far away as possible. He wants to lean into the touch.

Eventually the sandwich and the water are finished. He can hear Nick tidying the rubbish away,  
"There's one sandwich left, two bottles of water. We should save them for later."  
There is a long pause. Sean starts to wonder if the water he's already had was such a good idea. Finally Nick says,  
"I need to take a leak. If you need the bucket too maybe we should deal with that first."

An awkward five minutes later Sean is more comfortable, physically at least. Nick moves the bucket to the far side of the room and then shuffles back next to Sean, speaks in a low voice right next to him,  
"So, any thoughts? Three of them plus the small guy, normally I'd give us good odds. The alpha's the dominant one, take him out the others might just crumble. If we can find a way to get our feet free that would help."  
"You think they can hear us?"  
He feels Nick shrug,  
"Probably not - I called you Captain earlier and they didn't seem to know that, but I don't think we should take the chance. I'm presuming these are the same guys that took Caitlin Schneider and the others. They were all killed outside so we might get opportunities when they move us but I'd really rather not wait that long."  
"Depends on if they all come in together again. And do we take the risk when we don't know if there are more?"  
"I wonder why they wait forty eight hours."  
"They took blood samples, could be they want to make sure whatever they drugged us with is right out of our systems. And Alpha talked about identifying Wesen. Maybe he thinks he'll find an answer in the blood. "  
"Yeah, maybe."

Sean shifts uncomfortably. The room is cold, his shoulders hurt. Nick asks, with a surprising amount of sympathy in his voice,  
"How are you doing?

He tries to find the anger at Nick which has possessed him, protected him. It hangs in the balance but somehow he can't reach it, not here, blind, bound and with the only comfort the real Nick so close.  
"Been better." He pauses. "Nick, it would really help if I could see. When I woge I see differently from that eye. It gives me an advantage."  
"Not something you've mentioned before."  
He actually smiles, "I have to have some secrets, I'm usually such an open book."

Nick reaches behind Sean's back and starts to rub some life into his aching shoulders, numb arms.  
"Well, let's see what we can up with."

The two men come back, take more blood, hit and kick and taunt a little but they ride it out. When they've gone Nick moves back to him and they whisper plans in each other's ears.


	3. Chapter 3

His dreams are filled with murder. Blood and sharp steel and the screams of those who didn't deserve their death. He wakes, gasping and shaking, the agony of the dream made all the worse because he can't move properly. And then Nick is holding him,  
"It's ok, it's ok. Calm down. What the hell are you dreaming about?"  
He's too close to the dream to lie or dissemble so he just gasps, "Jack."

Nick has his arms wrapped round Renard, holds him tightly, trying to stop the shaking. They'd been sleeping close together in the cold room but now he's pressed full length against the bigger man. He's never heard sounds like that coming from Renard before and he doesn't want to again.  
"You know it's bad that we're being held by a gang of homicidal Wesen haters and you're having a nightmare about something else? How often do you dream like this?"  
He can just hear the answer,  
"Every night."

No wonder he hasn't been himself. Nick's not sure what to do. Does he talk to Renard about it? It had been pure instinct to hold him in this weird, blind world and that seems to be helping - he is calming down. At a purely selfish level (apparently his usual level lately) he needs Renard to be ready to fight if they're to have any chance of getting out of here. And the urge to comfort and protect a man he'd never considered would need it is surprising him with its strength. He takes a deep breath,  
"Sean -", he uses the rarely used first name deliberately, "I didn't realise how bad that was for you. It wasn't chance I found you in that bar. I talked to Rosalee and she made me think about what happened...  
He can feel Renard tensing up, trying to move away, this isn't working.  
Nick shuts up and because he doesn't know what else to do he just holds Renard, his cheek resting against the short curled hair and it seems to work. Renard - no, given their positions, Sean - relaxes in his arms and Nick keeps holding him and eventually Sean falls asleep.

Nick has no real idea of time but thinks a couple of hours have passed while he has cat napped, never letting go of Sean. He has manoeuvred them so that he is lying on his back, Sean lying on top of him and it must have been as comfortable as could be hoped for as Sean has slept soundly, despite the bound arms. Now though Nick is alert, listening for footsteps.  
"Sean, wake up. Two of them are coming."  
Sean lifts his head and then manages to get himself up and away from Nick as though Nick has suddenly become red-hot. The door is already being unlocked.

The two men want more blood from Sean. Nick doubts that either is a trained medic and by this stage Sean's arms have been fastened behind his back for so long it's a wonder there's any blood left there at all. The process does not seem to be a fun one for any of them.

At the end the two men's frustration comes out. Nick notices that as they have started to see Sean as less of a threat their aggression is getting more obvious. Typical bullies. He can hear that they're pushing Sean about, discussing - if that's the right word - his appearance. And Nick must have made some sound because one of them turns and cuffs the side of his head,  
"And you, freak lover, how do you put up with seeing that, do you find it attractive?"  
There is the sound of what is probably a kick making a very solid contact with some part of Sean and the two men leave.

There is absolute silence for a moment, not even the sound of Sean breathing. Nick is just starting to feel the first stirring of panic when Sean sucks in a huge gasp of air and starts to breathe hard in a way that says wherever the kick landed it really hurt. Nick gets across as fast as he can, puts his hand first on Sean's arm and then, he doesn't know why, moves it to Sean's face.

It's the sudden hitch in Sean's pained breathing rather than the sensation from his own fingers that tells him that Sean is woged.

Nick fought Adalind, was touched by Juliette. He is also a police officer and has handled dead bodies, some of them not newly dead. If anyone had asked him he would have said that was what hexenbiests, or indeed zauberbiests, felt like. But without sight, relying on touch alone he realises that isn't true. The face beneath his palm is ridged, dry, but it is warm, living flesh, even though it's clearly not human. He holds his hand absolutely still until Sean gives that familiar Wesen head shake and he's touching a stubbled cheek.  
Sean takes one more deep breath and says, in the most Captain-like voice he's used since they've been here,  
"They're escalating. It's time we got out of here before they do any serious damage."

They eat the last sandwich, drink the water, talk a final time through their plans, make sure they're as ready as they're going to be. They both know this is risky as hell but it feels like the only way.

*****

"Do it again, hexenbiest"  
Sean is once again kneeling on the floor, held either side by the two men, Alpha in front of him. He woges obediently. Alpha's loudly voiced revulsion seems at odds with the way he keeps insisting Sean woge, can't keep his hands off Sean's face, has ripped open his shirt to see how far the transformation goes. This is ideal. Nick speaks, trying to get just the right degree of disinterested distaste in his voice,  
"If you think that's bad then you should be glad you can't see the other side of his face properly."  
"What do you mean"  
"The top half of his face changes too when he's a hexenbiest."

It works. Alpha sounds interested.  
"Take the bandages off."  
Sean forces himself to stay relaxed, submissive posture, head down. His previous lack of reaction is working in their favor now. Hands reach to the back of his head and the bindings are sliced open, he can feel the knife catching his scalp, forces himself to ignore it. As the bandages are pulled away he part woges to take him through the pain of the light.

They are in a shipping container, as they'd guessed, lit by a single strip light. Alpha - tall, blond - is in front of him, the two big men either side. The fourth man, only a teenager really, is standing away from the others. He's the unknown quantity. Nick is off to the side, both feet under him, trying to look dejected but in reality ready to launch. They just need to get everyone in the right places.

The blond man looks at Sean in a way that makes Sean glad that one way or another this will be finished soon. He's holding Sean's head, gazing almost hungrily at his face and it takes every bit of Sean's control to stay still. Alpha glances briefly up,  
"Kill the other one."  
And the man holding Sean's right shoulder, let's go and moves across to Nick, knife in hand. He stands behind him, reaches the blade round.

Sean woges once more but this time it's different. He has fought all his life to control it, to master it, to never let it overpower him but now he lets it surge through him, all his anger, all the despair of the last months, all the feelings for Nick which he can never show, a tsunami of Zauberbiest.

Five things happen in very rapid succession: the fluorescent tube shatters and plunges the container into pitch blackness. That was intended and it works to their advantage - Nick's Grimm abilities, Sean's enhanced night vision, it's their opponents who are blind now. Even as the glass is showering down Sean smashes into Alpha with the only weapon available to him and head butts him as hard as he can. He feels the satisfying crunch of bone breaking, Nick throws an elbow hard back into the man behind him, hears the knife fall away. The fourth and fifth things are unexpected, the small man runs forward, grabs the knife and stabs Alpha in the back of the leg and the cuffs - with a clearly audible click - unlock.

Neither Nick nor Sean would be alive today if they didn't react quickly to events, however unlikely. Sean had let the momentum of his original move take him to the floor and onto his back, intending to lash out with his feet at the man who has been holding his left side. He still does this but with his ankles released he gets so much power into it that the man crashes into the metal wall and doesn't get up again. He shakes the cuffs from wrists and ankles and now the advantage is all theirs. Nick is fighting the third man but he seems well in control. Alpha, blood streaming from his nose and leg, is struggling with the small man. Alpha has the knife now though and it's not a fight that will last long. Sean approaches, still in full raging woge and as he does Alpha pulls the small man's head back and sweeps the knife across it. Sean feels blood splash across him, roars and attacks. Alpha is trying to slash at his face, Sean grabs his hand, forces the knife back towards Alpha's own throat and pushes it home.

Nick tears at the tape and bandages covering his eyes, turns to the door and pushes it open. It is - amazingly - daylight outside and the light floods in.

The two big men, the smaller, younger man are all dead. Sean is kneeling and Alpha is in front of him on the floor, alive, just, with blood bubbling from his neck. Sean is covered in blood - his own, the small man's, the Alpha's. He has his human face, looks stunned. Nick goes across, puts an arm around Sean's shoulder, squeezes. He leans down, looks into the blond man's eyes,  
"And just so you know," Nick says, "I'm a Grimm and my friend here, he's a Zauberbiest."


	4. Chapter 4

Nick picks up a set of cuffs, looks at the lock.  
"You do this?"  
Sean shrugs, "I honestly don't know. If so it was a first: in thirty years I've never managed more than some broken glass."  
"Well, that was extremely useful in this particular situation. And the cuffs must have been either you or him."  
They both look across at the small man. No telling now what he was - Wesen, Grimm even - or how he got pulled into this.  
"If it was him we owe him one, if it was you, thank you - very neat trick."

In the 'official' version of events the small man will be the one who released them. They stand for a moment in silence - because even if he didn't unlock the cuffs his intervention in stabbing Alpha certainly helped - and then turn and leave the container for good.

They are somewhere in the forest. There are two small, part-converted shipping containers - the one they were held in plus one that is set up as a primitive laboratory. The young man will also get the blame/credit for the destruction of the laboratory which means no one can ever quite work out what it was the men who held them were trying to do. There is a small cabin. Most usefully there is a pickup truck with the keys in the ignition and a decent track out. There's no sign of their own cell phones but there is one in a jacket hanging in the main room of the cabin. They get in the truck, drive until they get a phone signal, call Hank, call Monroe and Rosalee, call it in to the precinct.

 Later, much later - after interviews, evidence, a sketchy clean up, wearing paper coveralls because the clothes they were wearing are now part of that evidence - they are allowed to leave. Well, told to leave actually, to go home and get some rest. Monroe and Rosalee pick them up because their vehicles are in the police impound lot by now.

They sit in the back of the car, Monroe driving, Rosalee in the passenger seat.  
"Where we headed?" asks Monroe. Normally they would head to their house or The Spice Shop but he's not sure about the dynamic here - except it's changed in the last thirty six hours. Nick and Sean are sitting so close they're nearly (or maybe actually) touching. Sean finally answers,  
"I really need fresh clothes and no one else's will fit me."  
Monroe says "Your place. Sounds a good plan."  
Rosalee turns in her seat,  
"We're not just leaving you there alone though. Not this time."  
Nick says, "I'll stay at Sean's tonight, you two have done your bit for today."  
He risks a slight sideways glance at Sean, leans into him a little more, but he neither agrees or argues.

*****

Sean sits on the couch, his own couch, and looks around the room. It seems strangely unfamiliar somehow, the books he hasn't read, the kitchen he hasn't cooked in for so long. Only the whisky bottle on the sideboard is familiar, well used - he'd stopped bothering putting it in a decanter weeks ago. He feels thin, insubstantial without his anger. He tries again to find it but it's gone and he has no idea what he will replace it with. Nick comes back into the room, having seen Monroe and Rosalee out, casting slightly anxious glances behind them as they go. Sean really doesn't understand why he's still here. Doesn't want him to leave.

Nick for his part looks at Sean, sees what he hadn't really seen before. The additional sharpness of the cheekbones, the dark circles round the eyes. At the door Rosalee had said, fiercely,  
"Be careful with him, Nick. Something's been broken and fixing it isn't going to take a few hours or a few days. If you're taking that on you're going to need to stick with it, stick with him."  
Be careful with him, not careful of him he notices. Wonders when that changed for Rosalee. For the moment Nick thinks what Sean really needs most is a solid night's rest.

"C'mon, we should get some sleep."  
Sean nods fractionally in agreement, stands and heads up the stairs. Nick follows. At the top of the stairs it's right to the master bed, left to the guest bed. Nick takes a deep breath and goes right. Ahead of him Sean turns and gives him a look, still without speaking. Nick answers the unasked question,  
"You need to get a decent night's sleep without dreaming about whatever it is you dream about. We slept in the same place last night and it seemed to help I was there. Give it a go, what can it hurt?"  
Sean thinks there are lots of ways it could hurt but he simply can't find the willpower to say the word 'no'. They get into bed - politely, one each side - and Sean falls asleep straight away. Nick thinks only someone with a life as weird as he has could find themselves in bed with their boss (in a Bert and Ernie kind of way) and it not feel like anywhere near the oddest thing that has happened this week. He lies awake for quite some time, watches the other man. Thinks.

Sean starts to dream, the blood, the screams. But before the dream can take hold Nick is there, holding him and he calms, curls into the warmth and falls back to sleep.

*****

Sean wakes up. Really wakes up, in a way he hasn't for a long time. He lies, without moving, taking in the sensation of coming to consciousness without screaming or anger, without far too much whisky the night before. He turns his head very slightly, looks at the clock. He's slept for nearly eleven hours, about nine hours more than his recent average. He has an odd feeling of well-being and it reminds him of after he'd been shot, suddenly waking up one day and feeling _better_. He hadn't been of course but it had been a start at least. He could put this feeling down to eleven hours sleep, no alcohol and escaping from men intent on murdering him but he's worried that it's really down to something else. Nick.

Nick is lying half on top of him, one leg between his own legs, head tucked into Sean's shoulder, his hand on Sean's chest. Not just lying on top of his t shirt either, but slipped beneath the cloth so his hand is resting against Sean's skin. Sean tries to hold absolutely still but Nick stirs, his hand stretches but doesn't move away and Sean knows he's no longer asleep. Nick's head lifts slightly. He's going to have to ask.  
"Nick, why do you keep touching me?"

Nick thinks Sean is definitely coming back to himself because that is the uncomfortable question, and knowing which question to ask is a key part of any interrogation. He'd been prepared for 'why are you here?' - friendship, what they'd been through together - but the touching, that's more difficult. Because he wants to? Well he does, very much but that sounds selfish and he's feeling sensitive in that department. Because Sean wants him to? He appears to but that's seems a presumptuous answer. He chickens out,  
"Do you want me to stop?"  
He doesn't get away with it.  
"That's not really a fair answer."  
It comes out in a rush. "Because it feels right. Because I want to. Because I think you want me to..."  
There is a pause. Oddly despite this conversation neither has moved away from the other, they're still lying together like lovers.  
"Nick, given you're in my bed you should know that ah, my preferences don't always lie with women. As far as I know you're straight but you are sending some very mixed messages at the moment."  
And now Nick does move, leans up, looks straight into Sean's eyes for a second and then bends down and kisses Sean.  
"Does that seem less mixed?"

******

They get up, Sean goes to shower and dress. Nick - who is still wearing one of Sean's t shirts and a pair of his sleep pants turned up a slightly embarrassing number of times - rings Rosalee, asks her to bring some of his clothes and also some food, as Sean doesn't appear to have any. She's also going to take them to track down their respective vehicles.

Rosalee arrives and Nick is sent to get changed. He knows he's being got out of the room and that she wants to talk to Sean. He takes his time and eventually comes down to find the two of them looking reasonably relaxed. Rosalee gives him a packet of tea, tells him to make sure Sean takes it twice a day. Nobody seems to find the assumption that Nick will be there to do so odd.

The next two days pass in a strange new routine. They spend the days together, mostly getting Sean's house back to its old cared-for state. They spend the nights in each other's arms, sleepwear-clad, kiss and hold but nothing more. Sean still dreams, but each time he does Nick holds him closer and he sleeps peacefully.

On the third day they are allowed back to work.

Nick arrives first and is sitting at his desk with Hank when he sees the Captain arrive and immediately disappear into his office. Nick isn't even pretending to work, waiting to see what he will do. After a few minutes Sean reappears, starts to move about the room, talking to his detective teams, finding out what they are doing, encouraging, suggesting. Nick silently cheers. When he reaches their desks Hank looks Renard straight in the eye and says,  
"Welcome back, Captain."  
And they all know he doesn't just mean after the last few days.

*****

Hank and Nick head out of the precinct, off to interview a witness who has come forward in a case Hank has been working through the week. Sean watches them from his office, slightly anxious at Nick's departure. He turns to the pile of paperwork waiting for him, breathes deeply, he can do this. It might still feel like he's just pretending but it's going to be ok.

He is trying to make sense of a report written by one of his youngest detectives - three men had been involved in a fight, resulting in a fatality, and Detective Baird has had problems with her all-male pronouns, Sean is not quite sure who was doing what to whom - when an incoming email flashes up and he realises it's the report on his and Nick's abduction. He puts aside Baird's report, opens the new one.

The clinical language makes it all sound suitably distant. He reads the whole report - autopsies, CSI reports, witness statements from the bar - without feeling anything. The young man, the one who could see Wesen, was called Mark Winterburn, twenty years old. The blond man was James Da Souza. Neither of them had previous records. He looks at the photos, skims the report one more time. He shuts it, turns back to Baird's. And then stops.

The witness statement from the bar talks about a group of five men, not four. And the man Hank and Nick have just set off to see is called Stuart Winterburn.


	5. Chapter 5

Sean tries Nick's cell, then Hank's, leaves messages just in case, then he's out of his office, barking orders. This is no time for a lone wolf operation, this is the full force of the Portland Police Bureau reacting to a threat to two of their own. Nevertheless when they reach the house Stuart Winterburn is renting, see Hank's car outside, it's Sean who goes in first, Wu behind him.

The three men are in the kitchen at the back of the house, Sean approaches cautiously, can see Hank slumped on the floor and that Stuart Winterburn, back towards him, is holding a gun on Nick. He knows Nick has seen him, is moving round slightly so that Sean will have a clearer line of fire and he can sense Wu moving across to take the cover position. Wu must make a sound because Winterburn turns, taking the aim of the gun from Nick and sees Sean, points the gun straight towards him. He recognises Winterburn, he realises, from the bar, knows he was watched, selected as a victim by this man. He feels absolutely calm, gives Winterburn warning, exactly as per the police manual, sees that the gun remains pointed at him, takes his shot. He has dreamt and despaired at having killed but this moment, this death, this will not disturb his sleep for one second.

Hank has been tranquillised, presumably much as he and Nick were. He's taken to hospital, Nick going with him, but without real concern for his condition. He will wake up with nothing more than a headache and an impressive bruise from hitting the counter as he went down. Sean gives his statement, as does Wu, but there seems little doubt in anyone's mind that this was a justified shot. There is paperwork - isn't there always - but finally Sean is free to leave.

Nick is already there when Sean gets back to the house, leaning against the kitchen counter, talking on the phone, probably to Monroe from the end of the conversation he can hear. While he waits for Nick to end the call he takes off his jacket, his tie, loosens his top button, eyes never leaving Nick. Nick feels the intensity of the gaze,  
"Got to go."  
The words have barely left Nick's mouth when Sean is there instead. He kisses Nick hard and, after the briefest moment of surprise, Nick kisses back. There is nothing chaste or polite about this kiss, it's hungry, questing and Sean's hands on Nick's body are equally insistent, pulling their bodies together and making damn sure Nick can feel how hard he is.

The kiss breaks apart for a second, he has to be certain,  
"Nick, it's decision time. No more kissing like shy teenagers, no more sleeping in t shirts and pants, no more whatever this has been, this last few days. If you want to be ...friends, fair enough, the guest bed is there and you're very welcome to stay, but if you're in my bed tonight we're definitely not just sleeping."  
And Nick looks up at him, all dilated pupils and thoroughly kissed lips and says,  
"Why the hell are we waiting until tonight?"

They go upstairs, a trail of clothes in their wake, finally reach the bedroom, finally are unclothed. They kiss and touch, Nick traces each defined muscle, Sean discovers every inch of warm skin. The first release is fast, because they've both wanted this so much for so long, maybe even from the first time they touched, fighting in the forest by the blutbad's house all those years ago. The second time is slower, more intense. Sean takes Nick to his limits, past his limits and it's wonderful for them both. Even in the last few days they haven't talked much, touch taking the place of speech, and in the end the only words they have left are each other's names.

******

Sean Renard is never quite the same man after Jack the Ripper and what was done to him. The man before would never have given himself up so completely to loving Nick, to needing him and being needed in return, to living with him, laughing with him, even crying with him.

There are bad times of course, times when the dreams and the guilt come back. There is the occasion a true-crime writer, working on a book about Jack the Ripper copycats, manages to get past Franco on Wu's day off and walks into his office with the words 'Captain Renard, could you tell me what you really know about the Ripper murders here in Portland?' He sends her off to talk to the press office with such charm that she barely notices he told her nothing and Nick has to hold him through the nightmare three nights in a row.

The worst time is the unexpected letter from the lawyer settling Henrietta's estate, telling him she has left him a box of books and pictures. They talk about it and in the end the books and most of the pictures - all old, valuable but nothing of the Wesen world - are sold and the proceeds discreetly given to a charity that helps women working on the streets. He keeps one picture, hung out of the way, but his own private memorial to someone who died thinking he was her murderer.

There are good times too, some of them surprising. There is the time Nick cuts an entirely human corner in an entirely human case and Sean has to call him into the office to firmly point out the error of his ways. He arrives home, the home they now openly share, with some trepidation. Much to his surprise Nick greets him with a warm kiss - that eventually leads to much more - and explains to him that (admittedly after five resentful minutes) Nick had realised that seeing Sean so securely in control of his department, knowing everything that is going on whilst protecting them as much as he can against bureaucracy and budgets gives him great joy. There are other good times - working together in both the human and the Wesen worlds, realising that Monroe and Rosalee, Hank and Wu are friends to him as well as Nick, getting caught kissing at the department Christmas party and receiving a round of very genuine applause. But the best good times are whenever they are together, because somewhere along the way Nicholas Burkhardt has hijacked his heart


End file.
